


Of Bats and Poltergeists

by Macx



Category: Batman (Movies 1989-1997), Real Ghostbusters
Genre: Crossover, Ghosts, Paranormal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-15
Updated: 2011-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-21 10:12:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wayne Manor is haunted. Not by bats. Just a ghost or two. Who you gonna call?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Bats and Poltergeists

**Author's Note:**

> Author's voice: This isn't my fault (though I've seen 'Batman Forever' three times and couldn't get the idea out of my head: what would happen if Wayne Manor was haunted. Naturally, the Ghostbusters would be needed). That this baby got out of my head and onto paper can be called Petra's fault, who always happily accepts blame when it comes to my stories
> 
>  
> 
> Originally written in the mid-nineties and previously published in 555-BUST

It was late in the evening when Bruce Wayne returned from an important business meeting in Gotham City, later than he had expected. Bruce had thought more than once of leaving early, but it wouldn't do for the head of the corporation to stand up in the middle of a heated discussion, yawn and then exit. If the Batsignal had come, well, that would have been another case, but to his disappointment not even Commissioner Gordon seemed inclined to help him out of his misery. Close to ten it had been decided  to delay the meeting until the next day to settle matters. Bruce couldn't say he was looking forward to it. Not at all.

As he parked the Jaguar beside all the other cars in the large garage he wondered if Alfred was still up and if he had something edible somewhere. As he knew his butler, he was and he had. Alfred would lift an eyebrow, scowl a bit, though an outsider would not be able to really see a scowl, pointedly look at the clock and then serve dinner.

Wayne stretched and walked through the door, which connected the garage with Wayne Manor. As he entered the impressive foyer, he heard a loud crash from one of the upstairs rooms. The crash was followed by cackling laughter and a hearty, cheek-warming curse, which had a definite British origin. Bruce raised both eyebrows at the unexpected ruckus in his home, wondering what was going on. He began to walk up the stairs.

Another crash told him that the battle, and judging from the sounds it was really a battle, was coming from the small dining room.  
He carefully opened the door, ready for the worst, prepared to jump into action. What he saw was closer to the point where he would burst out laughing, but he caught himself in time.

Alfred stood more or less in the middle of the room, close to the dining table. In one hand he held the remains of what must once have been a feather duster. Now it was only a stick of wood. The feathers of the duster where all over the room -- and Alfred. Especially Alfred. The butler looked like a partly plucked chicken -- with slime all over him, too. As Bruce entered, the older man turned, a look of murderous intent and  wounded pride in his eyes.

"Alfred ...." Wayne began.

"Master Bruce," the Englishman interrupted with as much dignity as he could muster, "this has gone far enough." He tried to pluck some feathers off his uniform. "I tried to cope with the fact that the Cave is slimed sometimes; that the alarm system goes off every time this .... thing ... gets into the system; that the china is mostly broken; that we need some new wallpaper and carpet in the first floor guest room; but this....!" He held up the stick. "This is really enough." The butler straightened his uniform jacket. "Either you get rid of that thing or," he held up the remains of the duster, which looked like it had been chewed on, "or I'll quit!"

He pushed the stick into Bruce's hand and stalked out of the room.

Bruce Wayne was speechless, but not because half of the room was a total mess, or because he was now holding a chewed on former feather duster, no. It had been the words of his oldest and closest friend. It took a lot to make Alfred want to quit his job. It appeared that now this was it.

And it was time to call in some help.

 

* * *

 

The call came at nine in the morning when Janine was about to get herself a second cup of coffee. Since the week had been a slow one and the guys needed money soon to pay the bills from the last two months, she raced to the phone, which she normally never did until there was a definite crisis. Money shortage could count as a such.

"Ghostbusters," she called into the receiver. "You got 'em, we bust 'em."

"I really hope you do," a cultivated, male voice replied, sounding slightly amused. "Bruce Wayne," he introduced himself.

The name rang a bell, but Janine couldn't put a definite face or business to it.

"How may we help you, Mr. Wayne?" she asked politely, since she recognized the potential big time customer by the few words and the sound of the voice. Secretaries were trained to do that.

"I have a ghost problem at my home and I would like to hire your services to get rid of it," the man said slowly and Janine could hear the hesitancy. That was normal. No one confessed openly that he needed the Ghostbusters because of a paranormal problem.

"I'll see if I can squeeze you in our schedule," the red-haired secretary said with her business voice.

"I'd much appreciate it if you could come right away," Wayne said. "It's urgent and quite ... annoying. I'd pay for the flight."

Flight? That made Janine listen up. "Where exactly is this bust to be?" she asked warily.

"Gotham City."

That made her blink. "I think you should talk to one of my employers about that, Mr. Wayne," she said. "Hold on a minute." She punched a button and the call went into 'holding'. Then she stood and walked over to the office behind her desk.

Dr. Peter Venkman sat at his desk, reading through various papers.

"Dr. V?"

He looked up. "What's up?" he asked.

"Customer, I think. He's calling from Gotham City?"

Peter's eyes lit up with something Janine recognized as 'Money Mode'.

"He says he wants to hire us -- right away," the secretary added.

"Then we shouldn't keep him waiting," the psychologist said and rose from the chair, smiling. He went over to the phone and picked up the receiver. His finger hovered over the button to get the call out of holding and he looked at Janine.

"Bruce Wayne," she told him.

Peter frowned. Apparently he, too, somehow knew the name. Then he punched the button and smiled into the receiver.

"Mr. Wayne, Dr. Peter Venkman here. How may we help you?"

He listened intently for some time, nodding now and then and grunting an affirmative.

"Well, as my secretary said, we have a very tight schedule .... Oh, that is very gracious of you ... Yes ... No, problem .... We'll be over in no time ...... Thank you."

As he put down the receiver he was grinning widely. "Janine, call the guys. We have a case!"

 

*

 

"Bruce Wayne?" Ray echoed and his eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "Wow!"

Peter smiled at his younger friend's eagerness. He still couldn't put much to the name, though he knew the guy was some big shot over in Gotham. At least it meant money; big time money; money they needed badly.

Janine nodded. "And he said he'd get you over to Gotham with his private jet."

"Wow!" Ray exclaimed again. "Neat!"

"Bruce Wayne?" Egon frowned thoughtfully.

"What is it?" Winston wanted to know. "Something the matter?"

"No, not at all. I was just thinking what a great opportunity it would be to meet Mr. Wayne personally. He is the head of Wayne Enterprises in Gotham City and has corporations all over the world."

Peter snapped his fingers. "I knew I had heard about Wayne somewhere before."

Spengler nodded. "Yes, Mr. Wayne is a very powerful and well-known man in the business world. Some of his research runs along our lines, though he has never developed anything coming close to the proton packs or the containment unit. I think it will be quite stimulating to meet the man."

"The only stimulating thing we should think about is that he's paying big time for that bust," Peter interrupted his friend. "He's paying all of our expenses and the fee for the bust is something no one can ignore. He said he'll pay three times the normal rate."

"Must be quite an annoying critter he has running around," Winston noted.

"Sounded like the classic poltergeist," Peter told them, shrugging. "Don't know why he's that ruffled by it."

"Poltergeists can be very annoying and sometimes dangerous," Egon lectured.

"Whatever," Venkman broke into the lengthy explanation to come. "We should go and pack. Wayne said the jet would be here in two hours and that we should be at his manor -- note the word 'manor', guys -- in the afternoon." He grinned cheerfully and walked over to the stairs to go up to the third floor to pack.

Ray bounded up beside him. "It'll be great!" he exclaimed.

Egon simply shrugged and Winston followed his friends. He'd see how great it was when they were there.

 

* * *

 

The flight to Gotham City was all Peter had imagined it to be. The jet was a spacious and comfortable plane, with everything you could dream of -- even the gorgeous stewardess. While Egon and Ray were immersed in talking about Bruce Wayne and Wayne Enterprises, Peter was occupied with flirting heavily with the brunette stewardess. It was just too bad that the jet was landing when he thought he had Julie, that was her name, where he wanted her.

A large Bentley limousine was waiting outside the Gotham City airport. It was amazing, Peter thought, that they had found their way out of the airport. He had always thought he knew what 'large' meant, but this building was really large. With a capital 'L'. And it was bustling with people.

The Bentley came complete with chauffeur. The man was of an indefinite age, though Venkman thought he had be over sixty at least, but it was hard to tell. He was wearing a black uniform and a hat, looking dignified in the way he stood erect by the black car.

"Gentlemen," he greeted them with a definite British accent. "My name is Alfred Pennyworth. I'm here to pick you up and drive you to Wayne Manor." He gave the four men a critical once-over.

"Howdy," Peter returned the greeting cheerfully.

"May I take care of your luggage?" Alfred asked and looked at the various bags and the proton packs with a critical eye.

Normally it would be unthinkable to convince an airline to transport the nuclear accelerators in their baggage compartment., but the Ghostbusters had received a special permit from the president years ago and since then no one asked any questions, though some raised eyebrows could be seen here and there.

Pennyworth opened the trunk and within a few minutes the chauffeur had managed to get the bags and, with a little assistance from Winston, even the proton packs into the back of the Bentley. The trunk appeared smaller than it really was, Peter mused as he sat down in the back of the car. Alfred started the engine and they rolled away from the airport.

 

*

 

Wayne Manor loomed up before them, leaving all four of them -- even Peter -- speechless. There was a broad driveway, which was flanked at the gate by two large, stone horses, rearing up on their hind hooves. The trees to the left and the right were in full bloom and everything was green, though the house and garden, as such, somehow radiated an unnatural gloom. The house was incredible: it had two stories and was larger than any privately owned home Peter had ever seen. How could one man live in such a gigantic house?? Beside the house was what looked like a garage building, though it, too, was larger than normal.

Just like Gotham City, New York was one hell of a big city if you weren't used to large cities, but Gotham beat those standards. It held all kinds of awards; even the one for most ugly design, Peter thought. The houses had grown out of size, he had to confess, and the artfully placed statues made it look like an architect's playground. Peter  mused that he preferred New York City a hundred times to this place.

Alfred stopped the car in front of the manor and opened the door for the four Ghostbusters.

"Whew," Winston commented and scratched his head, looking up the front of the building.

"You can say that again," Peter muttered and then watched Alfred unpack their bags. The chauffeur had visible problems with the heavy proton packs, but Winston was already beside him, helping him with the forty-plus pounds packs.

"Thank you," Alfred said gratefully, but still dignified.

"No problem." Winston set the packs down.

Alfred walked over to the doors and opened them. "Please follow me," he invited them.

The four men entered Wayne Manor and would have stopped dead in their tracks if they hadn't been too occupied looking around.

The inside of the house was even more breath-taking than the outside. The entrance hall stretched up to the second floor, with a gallery running around the second floor. A tapestry hung on the wall immediately opposite the doorway, right over the large staircase, which split into two after a few steps.

"That's what I call an entrance hall," was Peter's only comment.

A man came down the stairs and smiled at them. He had a slim figure and was dressed in an expensive, dark turtle-neck sweater, black trousers and a dark jacket. He wore a pair of thin glasses and his dark hair was neatly coiffed. The square-jawed face was handsome and Peter suspected that women swooned when he smiled at them. There was no denying the fact that he spelled money. His intelligent eyes swiveled over the group, fixing on Peter. There was something hard and unyielding in those grey-green eyes and for just a second Peter thought he glimpsed another man in there, but the impression was fleeting.

"Dr. Peter Venkman, I presume," he said with a pleasant voice. Then he turned to the others, greeting them by their name, too. "Bruce Wayne," he introduced himself. Peter guessed he had gotten some info on them before-hand. "Welcome to Wayne Manor." He looked at Alfred. "Alfred, you can prepare the rooms for our guests."

"Yes, Master Bruce," the chauffeur replied and walked up the stairs.

"Chauffeur and butler?" Peter asked, raising both eyebrows. "The guy comes in handy."

"More than you think," Wayne replied with a thin smile. "Alfred will attend to all your needs. Don't worry about the baggage."

"I would like to keep the proton packs in a safe place," Egon said, "in case someone accidentally stumbles over them."

"You don't have to worry about that, Dr. Spengler," Wayne replied. "There is no one here except myself and Alfred."

The four men exchanged a surprised look. Such a large house and no one else except those two living here?

"If you don't mind, Mr. Wayne, we would like to start right away with our examination of the house," Egon explained to the man. "Maybe you could supply us with a bit of information about that poltergeist of yours."

"I haven't seen it, if that is what you mean," Wayne answered and led them to a room adjoining to the library. It was a large -- gigantic -- library with a fireplace you could park the Bentley in.

"Alfred has had the most encounters with our house guest." The billionaire smiled as he seemed to think of something amusing. "There wasn't much harm done, merely a few pieces of furniture damaged or a vase broken."

"It was a Ming vase," a British voice corrected.

They turned and discovered Alfred standing in the doorway, looking displeased.

"At least no one was bodily harmed," Wayne went on. "And that is important."

Ray nodded, completely in agreement. Then he got out his P.K.E. meter, switching it on.

"This will help us determine how strong the presence of the poltergeist is," he explained to Bruce Wayne and Alfred. "It will also tell us where the ghost is."

Egon did the same. "We should split up and get a first look at the manor," he said. "This way we can pinpoint the places of the major appearances and maybe classify the poltergeist. It seems to belong to the lesser poltergeist entities since it doesn't wreck havoc as most do."

Alfred scowled a bit. "It did its share of damage, mind you. And it ... slimed all over the house." A look of disgust crossed his features.

Bruce smiled a bit, then nodded at the Ghostbusters. "Feel free to conduct your investigations."

"I will prepare dinner in an hour, Sirs," Alfred said and exited.

"Okay, team, let's go and earn some money," Peter called.

They split up in two teams, with Egon and Winston taking the first floor, and Ray and Peter walking up the stairs to the second floor. They had a lot of ground to cover.

 

*

 

Dinner was served in the large dining hall on the first floor. Both Ghostbuster teams had covered more than half the manor by now and Egon was mumbling something along the lines of 'fascinating' and 'intriguing'. Ray, too, had been very enthusiastic with what he had read on the P.K.E. meter. Peter had more or less made a sight seeing tour out of their trip. The house was really a sight, he had decided. It had more rooms than he could count and every room was immaculately clean. How could one servant clean that large a building? Alfred had to be cleaning all the time. He had even found their rooms. Alfred had prepared a room for each of them and Peter could only marvel at the large guest quarters with the expensive looking furniture.

The dinner was excellent and mouth-watering.

"Chauffeur, butler and cook," Peter said, again shaking his head. "If he can type, too, maybe we should hire that guy as a holiday replacement for Janine."

Winston chuckled. "You've to ask Janine on that, m'man. I don't think she'd be all too pleased about it."

"I didn't say we should hire him as replacement," Venkman corrected. "But he'd be all we could wish for as a helper, wouldn't he? Chauffeur, cook, butler and I bet he can type, too."

"200 words a minute," Wayne suddenly said and Winston simply grinned.

"What did I say?" Peter asked the black Ghostbuster triumphantly.

As he turned back to their host he discovered that he, Egon and Ray were deep in conversation. Peter caught some techno-babble now and then. It seemed that the billionaire was able to talk to the two scientists without a translator. He was spouting techno-terms himself. Well, he should know some stuff, Peter thought. Wayne was the head of Wayne Enterprises, and Peter remembered reading some articles about their research.

"The poltergeist seems to be a class-4," Egon said just now. "It's a Breckner-poltergeist, first observed by Walter Breckner in 1902. They're obnoxious but not very dangerous. They like to play, as most poltergeists do. It has never been reported to be a hostile entity."

Wayne nodded. "You can trap it?" he wanted to know.

"Yes, we can. It's not too strong, but very fast and hard to find because the ectoplasmic energy dissolves faster than that of other ghosts. It also emanates too few elements of P.K. energy we can pick up to get a fix on its favorite hide-out."

Peter saw a shift of emotions in Wayne's eyes, but it was so quick that he had no real chance to pick up on it. Whatever Egon had just said had touched something. But what?

"If we find the hide-out," the blond physicist went on, "we find the ghost. Breckner-poltergeists stay in one spot when hiding, unlike other poltergeists which seek out new places every day."

Wayne nodded seriously.

"Have you noticed the ghost appearing regularly anywhere specific?" Ray wanted to know.

"Not really. I'm away a lot. Mostly business meetings," the billionaire answered. "Alfred said the ghost loves to go into all kinds of electronic equipment."

The two more scientific minded Ghostbusters exchanged a glance and Egon nodded knowingly. "A lot of ghosts love electricity. The poltergeists are curious by nature, especially the lower-class ones. We'll have to concentrate on those rooms where the electronic equipment is located."

Peter turned his attention back to the food. Just then the topic of Peter and Winston's former conversation entered the room, walking over to Wayne.

"Sir, there is a call," Alfred said.

The billionaire looked up from the conversation. "I'll take it in the library," he said and made moves to get up from the chair.

"I believe you should take it in the other room," the butler pointed out, very polite, very discrete. "It's a call from the commissioner; on your private line."

Wayne raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yes," he finally said. He turned to the Ghostbusters. "Please excuse me, gentlemen."

Egon and Ray nodded in complete understanding, while Peter was apparently more interested in what was for dessert and Winston, was already trying to find a way to politely say that he was completely stuffed. Wayne exited from the room, followed by Alfred. Peter looked after them out of the corners of his eyes. What was it that made him so suspicious besides the fact that Wayne had merely looked a bit ... afraid? Worried? Uncomfortable? ...... when Egon had said he wanted to find the ghost's hide-out.

Now that they were alone, Egon turned his attention to the team.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I believe we should return to work. We still have some ground to cover."

Peter yawned. "I'll take the bedrooms," he volunteered.

That drew a wry smile from Egon. "I thought you and Ray had already covered them."

"Better check them twice," was the reply.

"What about focus points?" Ray asked, addressing Egon.

"I found some interesting readings coming from the cellar," Egon answered. "I think we should take a closer look. Maybe the ghost has its stronghold down below."

"Maybe the manor was built on a graveyard," Ray theorized. "We should check the files. Or ask Wayne."

Egon nodded and got up, placing the napkin neatly folded beside his plate. That was also the moment Alfred entered the room. He raised an eyebrow as he saw the Ghostbusters already leaving the table, before he was able to serve dessert.

"Master Bruce asked me to excuse him," he said. "He was called away  on a rather urgent -..... matter. A business meeting."

"In the middle of the night," muttered Peter to Ray, who just shrugged. Who could know when a billionaire would conduct his meetings?

"Maybe it's a tele-conference with Japan," he offered as an explanation.

"We will conduct some more scans and then have to settle down to go through the data," Egon explained to the servant, ignoring the brief conversation between his two friends.

The butler nodded. "Of course. I'll take care of the dishes."

"Do you know if Wayne Manor was built on a graveyard?" Ray suddenly asked.

Alfred look slightly shocked, though it was hard to tell with those impassive features. "No, of course not. Mr. Wayne's father would not have acquired the manor if that had been the case."

"Of course not," Peter echoed and scowled at Ray. "How could you, Ray?" he scolded.

"Your rooms are prepared and your bags are in your rooms," Alfred informed them. "If you'll excuse me now, gentlemen -..." He left the room.

"Okay, let's go and get some work done around here," Ray called. "Egon, why don't we take a look at the cellar? If you really found some strong traces we should check it out."

The blond physicist nodded. "Winston and Peter, you can take the rest of the first floor."

The other two men nodded.

"Let's go, Ray," Egon addressed the younger man and the two scientists left to find the way to the cellar.

"I'll bet he has one large wine cellar," Peter remarked and Winston grinned.

"Come on and let's finish that scanning. I want to get some shut-eye tonight." The black Ghostbuster picked up his P.K.E. meter and Peter followed him.

 

*

 

A sleek, black car left the underground cave below Wayne Manor and sped toward the city looming into the night sky. A single, strong strobe of light illuminated the dark sky, in its center the symbol of a stylized bat.

 

*

 

Egon frowned at the display screen of his P.K.E. meter and made another scan of the large wine cellar. Ray was walking along the shelves filled with wine bottles, scanning, too. Something didn't make sense here, the physicist decided. On one side there was a strong poltergeist reading coming from underground, but on the other side the P.K.E. meter said that it was coming from behind those walls and that would mean there was either something behind the wine cellar or the ghost preferred to move through rocks all the time. Egon came to the conclusion that there had to be another room behind this one, whatever that other room was. Poltergeists were not exactly known to be rock-dwelling ghosts and they preferred open space to confinement every time.

He had searched for a door from the wine cellar into an adjoining room, coming up empty. Then he had decided that there might be a door leading down from the manor. Egon had just decided to go upstairs when Ray walked up to him.

"Egon, look at that," he said in an awed voice and held up the P.K.E. meter.

Spengler glanced at the read-out screen and his eyes widened. That was impossible!

Ray nodded as he saw his friend's reaction. "That's what I thought, too. But it's no malfunction. I configured the meter to function like a small radar screen to help pinpoint the ghost. This is what I got."

Egon was completely at a loss. Of course it was possible to reconfigure the P.K.E. meter to function the way Ray had done it. It was easy, though they never needed such a function. And what the P.K.E. radar told them was that below them was a large cavern. A very large cavern.

"Let's go upstairs," the physicist decided. "We need to find Peter and Winston, and then ask Alfred if there is a door leading to the cave the P.K.E. meter is picking up."

They began to climb up the stairs to the entrance hall when they heard a familiar noise.

"That's a proton pack!" Ray said and listened intently.

Egon had to agree. Someone was firing a proton pack at something and his best guess was that the ghost had reappeared briefly. A quick scan confirmed that -- and that the entity was moving back underground again.

"Come on," he said and they hurried back upstairs.

Ray nearly bumped into Alfred as they exited the cellar and the butler looked more than just a little bit flustered.

"Alfred, did you see the ghost?" Ray asked, enthusiasm in his eyes.

"No, Dr. Stantz, I didn't," Alfred answered and looked around. "Is it somewhere around here?"

Egon thought that Alfred sounded very much preoccupied. "Yes, we think so," he told the servant and made a sweep with the meter. Then he walked straight to a closed door leading from the large entrance hall.

Alfred hurried along, all the while looking more worried and more flustered. The door looked like someone had shot out the lock, then burned some of the wood. A sure sign that one of the other two Ghostbusters had used his proton rifle to open the door, which meant it had been locked. Egon opened it and looked inside. The room was small with a shelf at one end, just opposite the door. The shelf was full of silverware, which now lay partly scattered on the floor. There was no sign of either another Ghostbuster or a ghost. Egon looked at his meter again and frowned.

"Strange," he said.

"What is it, Egon?" Ray wanted to know.

"There is a definite presence here," the physicist said, fiddling with the meter. "But it seems to be behind that wall." He turned to Alfred. "Is there another room behind this?"

The butler shook his head immediately. "No."

"What about underground caverns?" Spengler posed the important question, which he knew the answer to.

"We have quite a few under Wayne Manor," Alfred answered, and to Egon it sounded more like the truth than the 'no' had. "But the entrance is at the cliff side of the premises. Very dangerous."

Egon didn't know what it was, but something told him that Alfred was hiding facts from them. But he didn't want to alert the butler to the fact that he knew that something didn't add up here, and gestured Ray to follow him. As they exited the room they ran into Winston. The black Ghostbuster was pounding down the stairs from the second floor.

"I heard someone firing!" he called. "Did you get the poltergeist?"

Ray shook his head. "No." He exchanged a quick look with Egon, who gave him a sign that they had to talk.

Winston seemed to get it, too, since he didn't press on, simply nodded.

"I need some reference material," Spengler announced and walked over to the library. The others followed.

Alfred hung back and somehow Egon got the idea he was really relieved that the Ghostbusters didn't ask any more questions. Then Winston closed the door after them.

 

*

 

Peter walked around the ground floor of Wayne Manor -- Winston had volunteered to do the second floor sweep -- and tried to come up with an excuse to call it a night. According his watch, it was close to midnight; time for little Ghostbusters to seek out their beds and get a good night's sleep. Wayne was paying them to bust a ghost, not haunt the Manor themselves until they fell asleep on their feet.

That was the moment he heard cackling laughter. He turned, thrower in hand, just in time to see a glimpse of the ghost. It whisked through the foyer and disappeared through one of the many doors. Peter's mouth set into a determined line and he followed it. Well, he tried to follow it, but found that the door was locked. For a second he pondered whether to call Alfred and ask him to unlock the door or not. He decided to skip Alfred and get to work himself. He set the thrower on a lower setting and aimed at the door's lock. A brief burst of sparkling ionized protons did the trick and the lock shot out of the door, clattering to the floor. The wood of the immediate area was burned a bit, but Peter didn't think it would ruin a man like Bruce Wayne to replace a door.

The room behind the door had to be a storage room or something along that line. The silverware on the shelf was a definite hint. Peter looked around, discovering no ghost. Laughter alerted him and he looked over to the shelf again. The poltergeist stuck its ugly, green head through the shelf and sneered at him. Then it burst out laughing again.

"Get a laugh out of this!" Peter suggested and fired.

Silverware clattered onto the floor, the noise deafening the Ghostbuster. But through all the noise and the renewed smell of burned wood, Peter noted something odd.

The shelf.

It had moved.

It had turned.

Carefully he came closer and to his surprise found something looking suspiciously like a secret entrance way.

"Now what do we have here?" he muttered and turned the door some more.

It didn't creak ominously as such secret doors were likely to do on TV. It turned smoothly to reveal a semi-lighted stairway leading down. Peter had never been the one to turn his back on secret and mysterious stairways in the home of a rich man.

Laughter told him the poltergeist was down here, too. He wondered if he should call the guys, but decided that he should check this out first and then call the back-up.

As he descended the stairs he noted that lights were coming on. Because of that he didn't hear or see the secret door close behind him. What was Wayne hiding down here? The family tomb? A large wine cellar? The safe? Something completely different?

The last few steps of the staircase went around a natural bend of the stone and as Peter arrived at the foot of the staircase, all he could do was stare. He couldn't believe what he saw in the incrediblly large cave he now stood in. This was too much. It exceeded his normally not so limited imagination. This wasn't a family tomb, and it certainly wasn't a wine cellar, not to speak of his theory with the safe. This was really something completely different. This went beyond all he could have imagined.

Before he could do anything, more lights flashed on and kept flashing.

"Intruder alert, intruder alert, intruder alert," a computerized voice repeated over and over again.

And above all was the mocking laughter of the poltergeist.

 

*

 

Alfred Pennyworth couldn't be called an overly happy man. He was thankful to Bruce Wayne that he had decided to call in help, but he had also expressed his doubts fairly early that four men in the Manor could mean a lot of trouble and a lot of secrecy. More than normal.

'Trouble' wasn't the word Alfred attached to the situation at hand. 'Crisis' fit it much better. Not only had the ghost decided to go and play underground, no. One of the Ghostbusters had followed it. And Dr. Peter Venkman had stumbled right into the Cave.

It reminded him a bit of the way Master Dick had found out about Bruce Wayne's alter ego and discovered the Cave. But Master Dick wasn't Peter Venkman, who now stood in the middle of the Cave, his rifle in both hands, gawking at the incredible sight.

Alfred went quickly down the stairs. He had to disarm the situation -- and the Ghostbuster. The equipment here was much too sensitive to be exposed to ionized protons. He preferred that terrible slime the ghost shed now and then every time.

Hearing someone walk down the stairs, Venkman turned and aimed the rifle at Alfred. The butler raised both hands in a defensive manner. As the Ghostbuster recognized him, he lowered the rifle a bit.

"Alfred, what the hell is this?" he asked and gestured around. "And don't tell me it's only an hallucination."

Alfred sighed, trying to find a tactful approach. "Of course not, Dr. Venkman," he said. "It is really there."

"And what is it that is really there?"

"You know, Master Bruce has this .... fixation," Alfred began in what he thought was the voice of a servant who didn't want to gossip about his employer, but had decided to do so nevertheless.

A rumbling sound from the other side of the cave made him stop. He knew that sound; he had heard it often enough. And he knew that now they had real trouble.

 _Master Bruce, your timing couldn't be worse_ , he thought and sighed.

Peter's eyes threatened to fall out of his head as he saw the sleek, black car pull into the cave and stop on what looked like a rotating platform. The car's top slid back to reveal the inside and a masked and caped figure exited. A scalloped cape flowed around his body and the dark eyes behind the pointy-eared mask studied the Ghostbuster as if he weree dissecting him.

Alfred could tell that Venkman was intimidated. _Who wouldn't be?_ he thought with grim humor. You didn't meet such a man every day ... or every night. But Alfred had to give it to the Ghostbuster, he didn't fall to bits or melt into a puddle. He merely aimed the rifle at the caped figure. Over his shoulder he said to Alfred,

"Some fixation."

 

*

 

Batman had heard the alarm from the cave over the beeper, but it had been too late to stop the car and turn back to find a hiding for the Batmobile and then get out of his costume. Whatever it was that had set off the alarm, he had to deal with it. There were several scenarios he could imagine. One was the ghost was in the cave. That would be nothing new. He had been down there more than once, leaving that gooey slime everywhere. But it had never set off the intruder alert -- only all the other alerts, including a warning that the computer was about to erase vital information.

So it had to be something else.

The Ghostbusters.

With a groan he realized that he might have made a mistake in hiring the four men. Of course, Bruce Wayne had checked them and their business, their references and so on. They had quite a reputation and even the president had called them once to bust a ghost. They had had their share of high profile busts and he had thought that it would be safe to assume that none of them would discover the Batcave.

 _Obviously, Bruce Wayne had been wrong_ , Batman thought. He steered the car into the cave and was ascertained of the fact that Wayne had been very wrong.

Dr. Peter Venkman stood in the middle of the cave, looking slightly surprised, which was normal, but also slightly aggressive, which Batman thought was also normal. Alfred stood beside him, appearing flustered and more than a bit at a loss. This scenario reminded Batman a lot of how Alfred had told him about the time Dick Grayson had literally fallen into the cave and discovered Bruce Wayne's secret. That had been one and a half years ago. Now Dick's alter ego was Robin, his partner. For a second a crazy and humorous idea popped up in his mind. But what would he do with four new sidekicks?

His mouth curled into a wry smile. _Dark humor_ , he decided.

Batman stopped the car and pushed the button to slide back the top. Then he got out of the car and looked at the uniformed Ghostbuster. The rifle of the proton pack pointed at him and there was a determined line around Venkman's mouth. He glanced briefly over his shoulder at Alfred.

"Some fixation," he remarked and there was a lot of sarcasm in his voice.

Batman wondered what that was all about.

"You need help," Peter said, addressing the Dark Knight, and shook his head. "That's the worst case of bats in the belfry I've ever seen."

Batman looked at him with slight amusement. Taking into account that Venkman had never met him before and that this wasn't the most normal of settings, the Ghostbuster was hiding his fear well. But those words had also told him that his worst fear was true: Venkman suspected who he was. How should he not come to the right conclusion?

"I'm free tomorrow," the psychologist went on. "My fee's reasonable and I even do house calls." He glanced around the cave and remarked. "Or in your case: cave calls."

Before Batman could say or do anything, the ghost went into action. It cackled loudly and whisked past the computer consoles.

Peter leveled his thrower at the ghost and started to push the fire button, when a hand closed around his wrist and pushed down the rifle.

"What?" Peter wanted to know, anger creeping into his voice. Not only was there a large cave under the manor. There was also a guy in a black costume in a black racecar! And now that guy wanted to tell him how to do his job!

"Listen, Mister Whatever-you-call yourself -..."

"Batman," the masked man told him in a low voice barely above a whisper.

"Bat - man," Peter echoed in disbelief. "You call yourself Batman? Gee, what an original name." He smiled amiably. "And you should do something about that cold. You sound awfully hoarse."

The crimefighter only kept on looking at him while he also held on to the rifle. Peter had heard about Batman, since the costumed man had made it to the pages of the New York Times several times, but never on the front page. He was one of those freaks, as the media said, who thought he had police powers. Peter had never judged the man, just skimmed over the articles and went on. Now he stood right in front of him.

"Okay, Batman," the psychologist said reasonably and relaxed his grip on the thrower, "I'm a Ghostbuster. There's a ghost in this ... cave ... and I intend to bust it." He gestured at the incredible structure around them.

"Not with this rifle," Batman replied gravely.

Venkman raised an eyebrow. "With what else? Talk it to death?"

"You should have no problems with that," the costumed man remarked.

Peter glared at him, no longer as intimidated as before. That guy was getting on his nerves and he knew who this man really was. There was no doubt about it. Fixation or not, he was Bruce Wayne.

"Let go of my thrower," he said coldly.

"Or what?"

Peter frowned and sized the man in front of him. He was bigger and definitely stronger, judging from the grip Batman had on his thrower. How could Bruce Wayne, who appeared so slim and inconspicuous, exert such strength?

"Well, I'll think of something and tell you later." Peter grinned at him.

Batman's mouth curled into a half smile. "The equipment in this cave is very sensitive and is likely to react quite -.... volatilely."

"So what's your idea?" the Ghostbuster wanted to know.

"We'll get the ghost to move out of the cave," the masked man explained. "And then you can 'bust' it."

Venkman shrugged. "Okay, let's try it. If it doesn't work --"

"It will work."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it."

 

*

 

Egon, Ray and Winston sat in the library. Egon studied his P.K.E. meter one more time and looked up into the expectant faces of his friends.

"So, Egon, what is going on here?" Winston asked.

"Something very strange and very intriguing," the physicist answered. "There is definitely a poltergeist here and its active. The only problem is that the ghost is not active in this house. It's active mostly under the house. Ray and I examined the wine cellar and the P.K.E. meter pointed to a room behind the wall of the cellar --. "

"I modified the P.K.E. meter," the occultist went on, "so it works like a little radar scope and found that." He held up the device so Winston could see the read-out screen.

"What's that?" the black Ghostbuster asked in disbelief.

"Large caverns under the manor," Egon explained. "I asked Alfred whether there is another room, but he only said that there are caverns beneath the manor."

"And they're only accessible at the cliff side," Ray added.

"So?" Winston wanted to know. "I mean, I know that there is something to the house that I can't explain. Large caverns under it is nothing to be all excited about, since this house is built on a cliff. This Wayne is a strange guy, too. A strange, rich guy, I might add."

"Yes, true. The thing that made me think is the fact that Alfred tried so hard to get us away from our underground expedition. As much as they want us to bust that ghost, they also want us away from whatever is down there." Egon looked around. "And it might be the answer to why the ghost is here or to where it came from."

"So the question is: how do we get down to wherever we have to go," Winston said. "And: where is Peter?"

"Exactly. Peter must have found a way down into the caves -- from inside the manor. We found the door which Peter opened by main force. The room behind it is a storage room and we found no trace of either the ghost or Peter." Egon looked slightly worried.

"But what could a billionaire hide underground?" Ray mused aloud.

"Maybe he's into something illegal," Winston suggested.

Stantz shook his head immediately. "No, I don't believe that. Not Bruce Wayne. Maybe he's got his safe down there."

Winston looked doubtful. "Maybe."

"There must a way from the storage room into the cave," Egon said. "All we have to do is find it -- and then I hope we find Peter."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

The three Ghostbusters rose and left the room. Alfred was nowhere in sight and they stepped into the storage room. Some of the silverware had been put back onto the smoldering shelf. Alfred had apparently started to clean already.

Ray switched on the modified P.K.E. meter and made a scan. Surprised, he noted that there was something behind the shelf. An empty room. He told the others what he had found and Winston walked to the large shelf, examining it.

"I don't see a button or a lever," he reported after a thorough search.

"There has to be a way to open this door," Ray insisted. "Maybe it's a simple turn mechanism." He pointed at the burned parts of the shelf. "It looks like Peter fired his thrower and burned the wood. It could be that the impact made the door revolve."

Winston shrugged. "Worth a try."

The three men pushed at the shelf and suddenly it moved. With a startled exclamation Ray stopped.

"Wow!" he whispered. "A secret entrance!" His eyes shone with enthusiasm.

Egon pulled out his own P.K.E. meter and took readings. "The ghost is in there," he said.

"Then that's were we're going, too," Winston decided and took the flash-light from his tool belt. He stepped inside the corridor.

Ray and Egon exchanged a quick look, then followed, throwers ready.

 

*

 

It hadn't worked exactly as planned, Batman thought. Chasing the ghost out of the cave to a place where Venkman could bust it safely had proven to be quite a strain. The poltergeist was obviously on to their plan and it had no intention of leaving the Batcave. It hid between the computer consoles or let them chase it through the vault with the costumes, but it never moved out into the open. And it was quite difficult to chase the ghost anywhere it didn't want to go. The only way to 'convince' it to move was the proton energy, and after the initial failure to get the ghost out in the open manually, Batman had allowed the Ghostbuster to fire short bursts of ionized protons to get the poltergeist moving. It worked better, but it was still not enough. They didn't get the ghost to play along with their plan.

The Dark Knight had shut down a lot of sensitive equipment and had made sure that the override codes were locked down safely. He didn't know what the ghost could do if it entered the computers, but better to be safe than sorry.

Alfred was keeping back, trying to stay out of the way of the ghost and the proton stream. The laughter of the ghost was unnerving and the echo in the cave multiplied the effect. Batman looked around, trying to spot the specter again, when he heard the sound of a proton rifle. He followed the sound and found Venkman standing close to where the entrance to the second cave, the cave beneath this one, was.  The ghost chuckled and disappeared through the floor.

"Damn!" he cursed under his breath and raced to where Venkman was standing, looking as angry as Batman felt.

The ghost laughed mockingly and reappeared again, brushing past the two men and startling them. It shot over to the lab section of the cave and took in what was on the table. There was a lot and most of it was dangerous because of the acids and the explosives. The poltergeist grabbed a bottle with a red liquid and threw it at its two hunters.

"Watch out!" Batman yelled and shoved Peter aside.

Peter fell to the floor and rolled around, bringing up the rifle, but hesitated. It was way too dangerous because of the chemicals.

"Aw, shit, get away from there," he hissed and got up on his knees.

But the poltergeist showed no intention to do so. It kept on throwing things, continually laughing and mocking. The cave floor was covered with all kinds of chemicals and Batman had a hard time not stepping into something, as did Venkman. For a brief moment Batman tried to think what he had deposited on the table and what reacted together in an explosive way. He came up with a variety of possibilities. Then he saw two puddles of colorful liquids close to Venkman. They flowed into each other a few inches in front of the Ghostbuster and the ground started to hiss and bubble.

Batman instantly jumped at the unsuspecting man and tackled him around the waist. Venkman gave a protesting yell as he was pushed down onto the ground again. Batman heard and smelled the reaction of the two chemicals.

Suddenly ionized protons crackled in the air and the ghost gave a scream of protest and it shot up into the air -- right into a containment stream. Batman looked up and discovered the other three Ghostbusters entering the Batcave. Zeddemore stood halfway up the stairs, shooting at the poltergeist. Stantz was all the way downstairs and Spengler was just coming around the bend of the staircase.

"Got him!" Zeddemore yelled. "Ray, the trap!"

Stantz threw out the ghost trap. Zeddemore positioned the ghost over the small device with the help of the proton stream and Stantz stomped on the trigger. A cone of brilliant white light shot out of the trap and enveloped the ghost. The poltergeist screamed in protest, but couldn't fight against the suction. It vanished into the device.

All of it happened quite fast and Batman could see in every movement of the three men that they weren't doing this for the first time. It was routine, though it was handled with absolute care. They had chased the ghost away from the dangerous chemicals, then trapped him, without endangering anything or anyone. It also showed that teamwork was vital and necessary in their job. One Ghostbuster couldn't handle a poltergeist.

The second the trap closed, Peter got to his feet, turning to Batman. "What was that for?" he asked, then suddenly discovered the sizzling spot of chemicals had reacted together only a few inches away. "Oh," was all Peter could say as his mind made the right connection between the black spot and what could have happened had the liquid touched him.

"Yes," Batman said. Then he turned to the other three Ghostbusters now coming closer.

Alfred hurried to him, glancing anxiously at Batman and the four men who had just discovered what was really below Wayne Manor. This was getting worse and worse. He might have convinced one man to keep the secret, but four?

Peter stowed his thrower and grinned at his three friends. Ray was taking in the cave and the masked figure with awe, now that the initial danger was over. Egon's face had a neutral expression, while Winston looked careful and a little bit suspicious.

"Hey, guys," Venkman greeted them.

"Peter, what happened? And what is going on here?"

The psychologist looked at the masked man beside him and shrugged. "We had a little party down here. I went as a Ghostbuster, he went as ... what was that name again?"

Amusement shone in the grey-green eyes behind the mask. "Batman," the other man answered.

"Wow!" Ray exclaimed. "You are Batman? That's great!"

The amusement of the masked man grew as he saw and heard the enthusiasm of the Ghostbuster.

"I've heard a lot about you," Stantz went on. "Even in New York. You're famous."

"Yeah, on the gossip pages," Peter added dryly.

"We might have a problem now," Egon observed neutrally, all the time watching Batman.

The crime-fighter nodded. "We might," he stated.

Winston, who looked around the cave with interest, turned back to them. "Why?" he wanted to know.

"Because now we know too much," Spengler explained. "We know who Batman is."

"But we'd never tell!" Ray said forcefully.

"It's not as if I mistrust you, Dr. Stantz," Batman said, "but you might say something that endangers my other self. What if you mention something even without wanting to?"

"I think you have to trust us with that," Peter answered seriously. "You can't make us forget. There is no way to wipe a specific memory from the human brain." He shrugged.

"You are correct." The masked figure exchanged a quick look with Alfred, who merely shrugged. "I have to trust you."

"Don't worry," Ray told him as seriously as Peter. "We won't tell anybody. We know how to keep a secret."

Het had to go with that, Batman decided. He couldn't turn it any other way. He had to trust these four men that they wouldn't tell the world that Bruce Wayne was Batman.

"All right," he said reluctantly.

 

*

 

The next day was beautiful and sunny. Autumn still didn't have a strong grip on Gotham City and the countryside around it. Peter stretched and yawned. He watched as Alfred and Winston loaded the proton packs and the baggage into the Bentley. The four Ghostbusters hadn't even unpacked all that much since their job had been finished in such a short time. Ray and Egon were somewhere in the Manor and Wayne had not been around  all morning.

"Good morning, Dr. Venkman," a pleasant voice said and Peter turned.

Bruce Wayne stepped next to him into the sun of the morning. As always he was casually, but still expensively dressed. And he was wearing black again. The glasses sat on his nose and the whole impression of a rich businessman was perfect. The psychologist wondered how such an inconspicuous and slim man could transform into the feared and powerful Batman by merely dressing up in a black costume with a cape and cowl. Amazing.

"Good morning," Peter returned the greeting.

"I wanted to settle matters before you returned to New York," the billionaire began.

Venkman merely raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"I wired the money to your account. I hope it covers your costs."

 _What costs?_ Peter thought. They hadn't spent a single cent for this trip.

"Alfred will get you to the jet," Wayne went on. "It will take off when you are aboard. There is no time pressure, so if you want to stay in Gotham for a bit of sight seeing, be my guests."

Peter shook his head. "No. We'll get home right away."

Wayne smiled. "About our arrangement last night ..."

"It still stands, Mr. Wayne. We won't loose a word about it." Peter shrugged. "Who would believe us anyway?"

"You'd be surprised," the other man said quietly.

Peter looked at Wayne. He noted that strange expression in his eyes again. There was a deep sadness there, overshadowed by worry, determination and a whole variety of other emotions. For a second the psychologist thought about offering the billionaire an open ear, but then decided against it. He knew Wayne would decline, though he guessed this man needed someone to openly talk to.

"But you could do us a favor," Peter said brightly and summoned his most charming smile.

Bruce Wayne reacted to it with the lifting of an eyebrow. "And that would be?"

"Lend us Alfred."

Wayne's expression changed from disbelief to surprise, then to real amusement. "Come again?" he inquired.

"Our secretary, Janine, is off on her vacation in a few weeks and we need a replacement for those two weeks. I thought you might borrow us your butler, chauffeur, cook and whatever-else-he-can-do for that time." Venkman gave the billionaire an innocent look. "It's not black-mail, really. Just a favor."

Wayne laughed out aloud, something that drew Alfred's attention, as Peter noticed. And the butler looked quite pleased by the sound.

"I have to talk to Alfred first, Dr. Venkman, but I'll see what I can do."

Peter smiled. "It'll be a unique experience for him, believe me."

"I'll bet."

Peter saw Egon and Ray exiting the Manor. The low rumbling sound of an engine aroused their attention and Peter saw a motorcycle pull up the driveway. A young man in leather clothes, his head protected by a red-colored helmet, stopped the bike beside the Bentley.

"Hey, Al," he greeted the butler and Alfred grimaced slightly. The young man pulled the helmet from his head and removed the glasses he had used to protect his eyes. Then he scrutinized the four Ghostbusters closely. "What's happened here, Bruce?" he finally asked Wayne, getting off the bike. "Had a party I wasn't invited to?"

Bruce Wayne smiled. "Something like it, Dick." He turned to the Ghostbusters. "Richard Grayson, the Ghostbusters," he introduced them.

Dick's eyes widened. "The Ghostbusters? The guys from New York? Cool! You finally had that slimy busted, right?"

"Right," Wayne answered with amusement.

"Was about time," the younger man remarked.

"Peter, you ready?" Winston asked, breaking into the conversation.

"Coming!" Then he turned back to Bruce Wayne. "If you ever need our help again, you know where to call," he said.

The dark-haired man nodded. "I know. Good-bye, Dr. Venkman."

Peter climbed into the Bentley and they rolled down the driveway of the manor. Bruce Wayne stood in front of his large house, Dick Grayson at his side, and watched them leaving in turn.

 

*

 

Bruce Wayne frowned after the departing car. A small voice of doubt crept up in his mind. What if the Ghostbusters ever told his secret? Then he shook his head. No, they wouldn't. He believed them; they would keep their silence. He turned to walk back into the Manor.

"Hey, Bruce, what's the matter? What happened here?"

Dick's question broke into his thoughts and he summoned a smile. "It's quite a complex story, Dick."

The younger man grinned and dumped his backpack on a table in the entry hall. "I love good stories."

"I know."

"And I love good food to accompany a good story." Dick headed for the kitchen. "I bet Alfred has some of those incredible sandwiches somewhere."

Bruce shook his head, chuckling a bit, and followed. There was still some worry lingering in his mind, but he knew that would pass. His secret was safe.


End file.
